Freddy VS Jason 2: Michael Myers Revenge
by Romarqable
Summary: Story incomplete. Available currently: Chapters 1-7, rest of story forthcoming.
1. Prologue And Chapter 1, Revised

Freddy VS Jason

Part 2

Written By Robert Martin

Started: March 27th, 2004, at 12:00 AM EST

Prologue

_"I cannot believe my own creation got the better of me," a voice echoed gently through the hidden visage of darkness. A cold breeze wandered through the rundown house in the middle of the marshes and wood, as a low set of footsteps could be heard creaking against mostly old and rotted down wood. A hand would grab an old machete, which was left on a small table, which seemed to once be some sort of shrine, a dark memory of evil that won't fade away._

_ The hand gripped around that blade, lifting it from its resting place. A light of amount of red rust covered it; wait, no… it wasn't rust… it was dried blood. Within this dark place, an almost reddish outline could be made out from within the black out the night, a visage of a man, covered totally by the darkness. The only totally visible portion of his body was his one remaining eye; light blue, cold… with bloodshot veins covering the only intact eyeball._

_ "I allowed it to get loose on my children," the voice continued, gripping the blade tighter now. "And now… he's back home… but he knows the way back to my children. I can't let that happen, not now, not ever… my glory and prestige is my own… and I won't let some hockey masked freak steal it from me!_

_ "In life… I was called psychopathic… in death… I'm the man of everyone's dreams." A light chuckle echoed throughout the entire room, a maddening, and continuing stream of echoes, seeming to get loader and proceed, until they went dead silent, with one, long, and strong breath by the form._

_ "Jason… Voorhees… they called him retarded… they called him slow. They called it stupid; when they looked at his ugly face, they said, 'whoa.'" Another chuckle resonated though the room, then coming to a quick halt once more._

_ "This time… I've got a backup plan for that bitch, and it involves a source, even darker then my own. He was brought to hell… one of the carriers of darkness… but now, I need his help. With him… I can once and for all claim what is rightfully my own. No, not just Elm Street, why stop there? I can take over the entire world!" A maniacal laugh carried its way through the house, and out into the marsh; it almost caught the attention of the hunter, who was about to strike at his prey within a tent in the middle of his home. _

_ "He seems to show a lot of qualities the old lap dog, Jason, has. His name is Michael," the voice would say, with a smirk._

**2004**

_ A small hotel room, on the fortieth floor, fills with the voice of a single person, who is speaking over the telephone to someone. He is sitting in a hotel room, in a chair, chatting nonchalantly to the person on the other end. "Shirley- Shirl," he would say. "I am going to write a new book after I'm done with this deal, you know that- Yeah, yeah… as I promised, no more of my sex books until after all this media dies down… yeah… can you believe it's been almost six years now? I am still speechless about it all."_

_ Touching his temple, he could feel the small scar across it. "Ronny," the voice said from the other side of the line, "you'd betta get yo ass back here to me before I have a damned mid life crisis."_

_ "Come on baby," Ronny returned, "you're only thirty-one. You won't have one until you're at least… thirty-five."_

_ A "humph" sound returned to him._

_ "One a joke," he said, with a small laugh. "Well, I need some sleep, I have that big book signing tomorrow. I love you baby." With the response returned, he said a simple good-bye, and hung up the phone. He turned the swivel chair, seeing his book upon the table. He picked it up, reading aloud the title._

_ "'The Hillcrest Academy Murders, by Ronald Jones.' I always hated that title. He turned the book around, to see his picture on the back cover. But it had been tainted. Upon dropping it on the ground, he stepped back. His face had a stab mark within it, and blood covered it almost entirely. He would just barely hear the closet door slide open, as a familiar white faced maniac appeared from wihin._

_ He gasped, looking to him. "Oh, fuck no," he said to himself, backing away, and toward his small patio just outside his room. He pulled open the door, and turned around to jump down it. He knew the fall would probably kill him, but better to be killed by a fall then a man you've been hoping was dead for six years. Upon turning around, the glass smashed, a knife flying through it, and ramming into Ronny's chest. With an explosion of blood from his mouth, the Shape lifedt him up from the ground, turning him around, and hanging his body over the edge. He tilted his head, watching Ronny's body writhe in pain and agony, as Michael ripped the blade from him._

_ He fell straight down tumbling. He his head hit one of the lower patios midfall, exploded into brain matter, skull fragments and gore. His body slammed into a car, smashing the glass and roof down into the cabin of the car._

Shirley would look to her husband in bed, sitting up, and touching him. "Baby, wake up… you're having a nightmare," she said. Turning him over from his side, his entire body exploded in a shower of blood, covering her entirely. She let out a scream of terror, a long, maddening scream. She would never recover from this, and, in a year's time, was dead from a self-inflicted knife wound to the neck.

_ "My children have been waiting for me," said the dark voice. "And I'd hate to keep them all waiting." Another cackle elevated from the dark room, as the form slowly vanished from sight._

Chapter 1

**An old, beaten down, black muscle car roared down the road, ripping its way around a corner.** Inside was a man, whom gripped the steering wheel with one hand, while the other hand sifted through a small bag, filled with several books and tools inside. He pulled out an old hockey mask, staring at it. It resembled Jason's old hockey mask; yet it wasn't at damaged, and had two blue streaks across the cheeks rather than the red.

He began to hear the voice of his sister in his head; the memories had haunted him for years, and still haunt him even now. _"Tommy," _the voice echoed through his head. _"Tommy!" _A child's voice, his own voice, then filled his head, _"Die! Die!" _The sounds of something being hit over and over into wet meat would also ring through his ears as if they were going on right at that moment.

_"Die! Die!"_

_ "Tommy!"_

His mind suddenly returned back to that night, _so long ago. A young boy was hugged into his sister's arms tightly, gripping her like he was trying to slowly squeeze the life from her body. The boy looked back behind him, at the malformed and bleeding carcass upon the ground. He looked down at his hand, with the long, black, and dirty finger nails, which he then saw the finger slowly move. He immediately pushed Trish away from him, lifting the machete over his head, and slammed it down into the killer's body._

_ He didn't stop there. He continued to swing the machete wildly at the deformed man beneath him; as he heard the screams behind him._

_ "Tommy!" Trish would cry, standing just a few feet away, as the machete came down once again upon the killer. "Tommy," she could cry out to him once more._

_ "Die," he would exclaim, bringing down the machete once more onto the body. He refused to stop until he knew the killer was dead. "Die!" He refused to stop until Jason was dead._

The sound of the horn of an eighteen wheeler in front of him brought him out of the trance. He, just for a moment, was like a deer trapped in headlights; just staring into the near blinding glare. He veered off the road, into a small wooded area, until the car came to a complete stop. His hand was still gripping around the hockey mask in his hand. He looked down to it, and immediately threw it into the back seat of the car. He took in a few hurried breaths, wanting to get oxygen back into his system.

He pulled an old scrap book from his bag, and would sift through it. Magazine and news paper articles read such titles as "Teenagers Found Dead at Crystal Lake," "The Curse of Crystal Lake," "The Crystal Lake Killer Remains On The Loose," "Crystal Lake Legend," and the final article read "The Crystal Lake Killer Has Vanished."

He knew by the title of the last article that it was finally over. He hadn't heard a single thing about Jason Voorhees in nearly thirteen years; then, as he flipped through the pages, he arrived at a fairly new article; "Copy Cat Jason Voorhees Killer Appears In Springwood."

He knew in order to find out what was going on, he needed to return to the source; Crystal Lake. But it had been nearly twenty years since he was there last; his memory went back to _that night. He was out on the lake, in the small boat._

_ "Megan! Megan no! Jason!" He watched as the cabin exploded in pieces of thin wood, as the hockey masked maniac gripped his huge hands around her head. She began to cry out, wanting to be freed, but the hands began to squish her face together, as she began to cry._

_ "Jason! It's me you want, remember!" He watched as the monster let go of the girl, and began to come back to him._

He stirred back from that, and looked down to the scrapbook. He flipped the page once more, to a new article, which read "Crystal Lake Killer Returns." He closed his eyes, his mind returning to that night. _The fire roared all around him, as he gripped to the chain tightly. Then, he saw as air bubbles came up on the left side of the boat. He peered over, ready at a moments notice to drop the chain around his blackened neck._

_ He finally got the chain placed around that monsters neck. But Jason, whom refused to say die, jumped up, ripped the boat in half, and they both sunk down into the murky waters below. He felt himself try and get back up to the surface, but Jason had him by the foot. He struggled to free himself, but Jason, with his mighty grip, pulled him back down into the water. He felt the heads wrap around his neck, and shake him violently. He looked into Jason's eyes; well, his one eye; and saw the evilness that it held within. He sucked in some water, and felt everything slowly start to blacken. He would close his eyes, and everything would just seem to end._

_ He would cough, and he would awaken. He looked up; his vision slightly hazy, as he saw Megan holding to him tightly just above him. He sat up, and looked out to the lake, while all the children behind him stared on blankly._

_ "It's over," he remembered himself saying; "It's finally over. Jason's home." He slowly watched the fire die down, until it was nothing more than a flicker, than nothing more, at all._

He opened his eyes, and looked into the rearview mirror of the car. He saw himself almost twenty years older; he knew he was a man now; he didn't have the youth, or vitality anymore. But he was smarter, he was wiser; he knew what had to be done. He knew exactly what needed to be done.

"Jason," he said to himself, a bit more of a manly voice coming from him then he had remembered. "I am old," he thought to himself, knowing that it was all true. He was older, and he began to think he didn't have the strength anymore to fight Jason Voorhees. It was at this moment he began to have doubts about continuing on.

"This is foolish," he said to himself, starting the car up once more. He let the engine roar twice, before he put the car back into drive, and continued on down the road. He passed a sign which read

'Welcome To Springwood. _It's A Nice Place To Live._' He groaned upon reading the tacky old sign, passing into the town, just as he had long since planned. He knew this battle would be long, and hard; but he had to face this once and for all, and he knew he had to find out as much as he could about this town of Springwood.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

**He groaned gently in his sleep, turning over onto his side. He was just a teenager; about sixteen or seventeen. **He had short, black hair, and had a medium build. He was a rather good looking boy; even at this stage, he looked like man, with age in his face. He seemed displeased with what he was dreaming; he turned over once more, onto his back.

_He groaned a little more, before his eyes immediately flew open. He sat up, looking around. His bed was there, but his room sure as hell wasn't. He slowly came up into a sitting position. He turned his side to side, seeing no one on the long street. Then the sound of laughter came behind him. The laughter of young children. Then the sound of singing followed shortly thereafter. He turned, looking to several girls, jump roping. The song wasn't audible; but the beat reminded him of an old nursery rhyme song._

_ Moving forward, he walked toward the group, the song getting ever more louder, and the children closer. Then, he began to hear it crystal clear; "..five... six... grab your crucifix, seven, eight, better stay up late… nine, ten… never sleep… a-gain."_

_ The boy looked at them, as they turned toward him. They quickly darted off in separate directions, as he looked up. There before him was a large, old, run down house before him. It had four large numbers printed across it; one, four, two, and eight._

_"Fourteen twenty-eight," he said to himself, his voice low, and barely on the brink of a man's voice; it sounded rather boyish. He looked at the house, taking a few careful steps toward it. He wanted to inspect the house for himself; he'd never seen, or heard of it before this moment._

_ He walked upon up to the front door, his hand reaching to open it. Just then, it would slide open itself, almost inviting him inside. Just before he entered, a voice would call to him._

_ "Jacob Johnson, you get away from that house this instant!"_

_He whirled around, sighing. "Oh, come on mom, this is my dream; why do you always come into mine?"_

_ "To make sure you'd never come here," she said. The aging blonde beauty walked toward her son. She was Alice Johnson, once the Dream Master. Her son immediately turned around, looking up to the house. _

"_So, what… that's Fred Krueger's old home?" Jacob started to walk toward it._

_She merely looked up to it, grabbing his wrist, dragging him away. "Look, Jacob… this house is evil… all that has ever come from it is death. Please, understand… this house is not safe for you. And until you've mastered your powers like I have, I will accompany you into your dreams. Is that clear?"_

_"Crystal," he said, in a rather sarcastic way._

_ "I'm not kidding Jacob. You're not safe here. If Freddy was to ever get to you… I don't know what I'd do, or where I'd be."_

_"Mom, listen. You've warned me over the last seventeen years about this burned freak. Look, he's not going to come back; he's dead, you killed him mom."_

_ Alice merely shook her head, looking to him. "No," she said, looking back at the house. "I can feel him. I can feel his power. It's growing, and he's getting ready to return and take over Springwood once more. I can feel it, Jacob."_

_ "Mom, quit it! Enough with this Fred Krueger bull shit!"_

_ She slapped him on the arm, to get him to stop. They both stopped at that moment. Jacob looked down to his arm, rubbing it. "Mom what the hell… that hurt…"_

_Alice closed her eyes, and they would both _wake up from their dreams. Jacob sat up in his bed, pulling down the covers and looking to his arm. There was a big red mark on his arm, in the form of a hand.

Alice flung the door open, and looked towards her son. She walked over toward him, looking at the red mark on his arm. She placed her hand over it, and he would cringe slightly. Her hand perfectly matched the mark. They would both look to each other, in a stunned manner.

"How did you do that, mom," he said, looking up into her eyes. "That's never happened before."

"It's all beginning again," she said, sitting down on the bed, beginning to sob. It's beginning again."

Jacob moved over to give a hug his weeping mother, leaning his head against the top of hers. As she wept, she would remember the evil that she faced long ago… how she had defeated Freddy not once, but twice… but that was a different time; she had youth and strength then. Now, she was old, on the worse-side of the edge of forty. She didn't think she would have the strength to fight Freddy again.

She knew her son had untapped powers, and could do just about as much as she could at that age. But she would refuse to let him enter into this battle; she'd get them both out of Springwood before that would ever have to happen. She hugged to him even tighter, sobbing at the thought of having to see her son get hurt… "not this time, not ever again," she said lightly to herself, barely audible by Jacob's ear. But he heard it, and knew exactly what she was thinking. He always knew what his mother was thinking.

They would both continue to sit there, in a stunned awe. Jacob still refused to believe Freddy existed; while Alice knew what had to be done, even if it would cost her own life.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

**A man closed his eyes tightly, attempting to suppress the memories that he had been holding back for so long.** The man slowly opened his eyes, and glanced around. The surroundings were that of a train; he had not even realized how or why he had gotten on the train. He let out a quick yawn; the nightmare of reality returning to him. He glanced down at his pocket, and pulled an article from his pocket, and began to read it.

He knew he'd seen the damned thing over fifty times in the last four days; but that didn't really seem to effect him all that much. Each time he felt he was discovering something new from those simple words.

**Killer On The Loose**

The startling series of murders in Springwood

By: Jerry Holden

Haddonfield Tribune

Over the last twenty years, the town of Springwood, Ohio,

has been plagued by a series of strange and unexplainable

murders; each seeming to end after almost a dozen people

are found dead. Some say is the spirit of a serial killer whom

disappeared almost three decades ago, that haunts teenagers

in their dreams.

This time, it's a killer of a different kind. At a rave in the Brockhiemer corn field, a starting death toll arose; ten

teenagers were slaughtered to death by a mask wearing man.

They never got a name of positive ID; he was about six feet,

seven inches tall; approximately 230 pounds, and extremely

strong. He was reported set on fire; and walked on, like it was

nothing whatsoever.

"I saw him with my own eyes; it was like the devil took

human form, and just killed," said Robert Laskin, a local

resident of Springwood. "He was an unstoppable killing

machine."

The murders have no connection to the previous murders

and suicides of the town.

The man looked down at the article, and folded it back up, slipping it into his pocket. "It couldn't be him," he would say to himself, lowering his head down into his hands, and signing. "It couldn't be Michael. It's just not possible."

He raised his head up slightly. He lifted his hand to brush back to short, dark brown hair. His dark eyes looked over to his side. He saw a man sitting in one of the seats, reading over a newspaper article, which had something to do with a love affair between two famous people he really didn't care all that much about. He grabbed the handle just above his head, pulling himself to his feet. He gently turned, holding the handle, and felt as the train began to slow down, and eventually stop in the station.

He slowly began to exit the train, looking up at the sign above his head, which read "Springwood Rail Station." He lowered his vision down, and began to walk into the town. He glanced behind him into the train, at the conductor, whom gave him a deathly grim and cold glare. He saw as no one else dared leave the train, as it immediately took off.

He lifted his back, slinging it over his shoulder, as he continued on into the town slowly. He knew only that this town had some sort of deep, dark secret that much was hinted at in the old article he had. He slowly began to walk off the station, and out onto the mostly empty streets. He noticed how quiet everything seemed to be around him, how calm the air was… it all seemed oddly eerie, and yet, so inviting.

Continuing on his way, he turned slowly, upon hearing a small whisper from the woods just to his right. He turned; the whisper barely audible by his ear.

The sound would get slightly louder; he could make out it was the sound of a human voice, which still spoke too low to be heard.

It would finally enter into his hear; he could make out the words at last. "Help me," the voice would say. John would cautiously enter into the woods, stepping forward. He saw ahead of him a form on the ground. He hurried toward it, and saw it was a boy. He kneeled down, lowering his hand to touch the shoulder.

The boy would immediately turn around. He was in a Halloween costume; not just any Halloween costume, but a clown costume. A small plastic face mask had covered his eyes; but the man could see into them. He could see into the darkness, the nothingness that existed inside those eyes.

A the boy raised a knife above his head, as the man let out a scream, the knife stabbing into his chest. The blood would spill over all over the boy, as John would try to grab the boys arm. But the boy acted as though he were nothing but a fly; the knife dragged down, tearing another whole into John's chest. He looked down as his organs began to spill out onto the ground. He let out a shrilled scream, before he dropped forward, the organs flattening under the weight of his dying body…

Eyes opened quickly, and he looked all around him. The train was still in motion, continuing on its way. He looked all around him, and no one else but him was in the train train car.

John took several long, and deep breaths, then immediately exhaled each of them. "Get a grip over yourself, John," he told himself, his breathing returning to something that could be considered normal. "Get a grip."

He could feel the train beginning to decelerating , as it slowly came to a halt in the station. He looked out the window, and saw the exact same station from his dream, and the exact same sign; "Springwood Rail Station." He closed his eyes, and thought about staying on the train, and not going into the town; taking the train to the next station, or the next, or maybe the last one on the line- anything was better than this, facing the horrible truth, facing his demons, facing this black elephant that had plagued his life for so many years.

His better judgment had had seemed to have left him, because he stood up, and John Tate departed from the train, and into the town of Springwood, Ohio.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

**She hadn't been back here in almost twenty years. **After that night, how could she? If it hadn't been for Tommy being there for her, or her being there for Tommy, they both would've ended up back in the asylum Tommy had only just left. The stories he had told Megan, how he witnessed one of the patients murder another one with an ax… for just offering him a candy bar. Megan couldn't believe it, either.

Life just slowly became reclusive for the both of them… they had to both go under assumed names, so neither of them would be found after that incident here, at Crystal Lake, in 86'. She never wanted to come back here, ever again. She swore Tommy, and he swore back to her, that they'd never return to this wretched place.

But she had read part of an article Tommy had. What had caught her eye had been the line "Hockey mask wearing killer murders nearly a dozen at a local rave." She didn't get to see anymore beyond that, for he crumpled it up, and went to bed. He told her he was going to leave for the day, and that'd he'd be back. But she knew the truth. He was going to Crystal Lake to take out Jason once and for all. Unfortunately for her, she didn't get to read it was in Springwood, not in Crystal Lake.

She slowly drove through the main gate in her Jeep Explorer, which was a dark green color, which nearly blended perfectly in the dark night, as a enveloping fog would roll out from the camp. The place had been completely deserted for several years at this point, until they decided to reopen it about a year or two ago. When the equipment, including a large, propane tank exploded, once more, the camp was closed for business. She and Tommy had contested then- but would soon have to retreat back, when they began to get investigated. "It's too dangerous," he had told her. "They didn't listen to us… they will pay for that." And that's exactly what had happened.

Megan slowly came to a stop, in almost the same spot her father had stopped his police cruiser, just before he was broken in half by the masked menace known as Jason Voorhees. She slowly opened her car door, and stepped out of the car. She left the door open, just in case she needed to get back to the car and get out of their quickly, should the situation become perilous.

She glanced around for Tommy's old car, but it was nowhere in sight to be seen. She wondered if he'd parked it deeper into the woods, so he could explore. She knew Tommy could handle himself, but she refused to let him go in these woods. She'd seen what Jason had done before, his tactics; he was easily able to come out of nowhere, and get you when you least expected it.

"Tommy," she would say lowly at first, barely a whisper, wondering and worrying as to where her husband was at. She began to get worried, and would speak up louder. "Tommy?"

Her voice had a certain weakness in it, an almost tremble feeling to it. She was getting rather nervous at this point. She remembered how she found all her friends dead at this very place… within those cabins. How she had to be the one to find out that monster had killed her father. It was absolutely awful. "How does a monster like this be allowed to stay alive," she wondered to herself, advancing forward, not even realizing she was distancing herself further and further from her vehicle.

"Tommy, are you here?" She cried out into the dark night. She realized she may have disturbed the demon, and she ran back to her car, and got inside. She slammed the door shut, slid the key into the ignition, and turned it. The car didn't start. "Oh God," she said to herself, her heart racing at a million miles a second. It was as if her heart jumped out of her chest, and didn't plan to come back any time soon.

She closed her eyes, turning the key again. The engine rumbled for a few moments, and the car turned over. She let out a sigh of relief, smiling. "Thank God," she said to herself, her right hand reaching to put the car into drive, when two bulky hands smashed through the glass window of the driver's side door, the hands grabbing around the sides of her head. She had no choice but to turn, and scream out in terror. There, just before her, was the masked menace, with a death grip on her face. She had been here before… but back then, Tommy had been here for her. Not tonight, and not ever again.

Megan fumbled to find the gear shift, her hands just missing it. She could slowly feel the bones in her face starting to give way, as if her had had been caught in a vice. She let out one final scream for help, putting the car to drive, and pushing the gas pedal down to the floor. But it was just too late. Her head exploded within his death grip the car taking off. Jason stepped aside, and watched it pass the cabins, and drive off a small embankment, and into a bush, and seeming to just completely disappear amongst the brush.

Jason, seeming to be satisfied with the job he had done, had turned away, and began to walk away, back into the rolling fog he had appeared from. The car blended in nearly perfectly with the bushes; anyone who momentarily glanced at it would never assume there had even been a car there.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

A bold, middle-aged man sits at a computer desk, reading from an old, aged scrapbook. He'd kept it since that incident, so many years ago, and time had almost began to let him believe it had all been a dream. Almost.

This scrapbook was the only bridge to the unreality of it all, telling a story of evil he wished he could forget. "Killer On The Loose At Crystal Lake," read the title of one of the articles in the book, this one dated 1989 "Copycat Crystal Lake Killer Attacks Again," this one from 1993… the year he came face to face with death… and won.

The articles bring to the surface so many buried memories, he couldn't seem to press them back. He'd spent so many years trying to cope, thousands in psychiatric bills, various techniques, even trying to face his fears.

_"Through a Voorhees was he born, through a Voorhees may he be reborn…."_

…and of course, most importantly…

_"…and only by the hands of a Voorhees will he die."_

That information had cost him the use of two of his fingers, neither ever completely healed from nerve damage. He'd longed for a career as a writer, when he was that age- but time is funny, and it plays games with your hopes and dreams._ Seldom do we get the things we most desire_, he thinks, and laughs to himself, to no one. Yeah_, just like the old Stone's song, "You can't always get what you want."_

He pulls out a piece of paper, and lays it out on the desk, right next to the mornings' paper. The very same paper which started this whole fucking mess.

_Now that's a bold face lie, isn't it, Stephen?_

Yes, it was. The trouble had really began two months back…

_Still lying to yourself… it all began back in 1993. When you found out Jessica's dark little family secret._

His inner voice refused to shut up today. He'd had many bad days before, his inner voices turning against him, blaming him, teasing him…

_It was your fault, Stephen, wasn't it? Of course it was, buddy-boy. _This time, it was his friend, Randy.

_You got me killed. You got Duke killed. You even got Jessica killed, didn't you?_

He knew he shouldn't blame himself for that accident… but the other part was right. Had he not been sick that day, had he not played it up for more than it was, it would've been him in that wreck, not Jessica and their son. Yes, he would've been alone- he hated how his son became on car rides- all teens were such pains in the ass sometimes, but God dammit, why? Drunk driver at five in the fucking afternoon?

_ You can't always get what you want, Stephen. _Randy again. _But if you try sometimes, you find…_

"…You get what you need," he finished aloud. He looked down at the paper- he'd almost finished the front of it completely/ Another part of him, the part of him that once stood toe to toe with Jason Voorhees, cied out to him, told him to stop, told him to crumple up that sheet, and forget everything.

_It's too late for that now, isn't it, _Jessica's mothers voice. _Too late._

"Yes," he said, now absent mindedly. Like it was a movie, it all played through his mind, Jessica's mother death, the arrest… the escape from the Voorhees homestead, that strange book… that horrible melting creature. Duke, that son of a bitch, and Jessica… how beautiful she was, her inner strength, the love that they made after that monster was gone.

Yet still, time was funny, and things always change. He turns to the newspaper again, and reads out loud the headline. "Multiple Murders Across State Lines."

_Over ten dead in Springwood, another three bodies in Crystal Lake. They claim another copycat… but you know better Stephen, don't you? _It was Duke this time, that old son of a bitch. _The last of the Voorhees line is all but dead, boy. No one left to stop him._

"No one left," he said. With Jessica gone, and their son, there wasn't anyone left. The monster would reign, unstoppable, unkillable. He goes back to the story of that first poor girl who survived the crystal lake rampage- what did Jason do to her?

_They'll never find your fucking body. _Joey B… the owner of that diner. He remembered her death- her jaw had been hit so hard, it forced back into her face. _Gone forever._

"No," Stephen said, "it ends on my terms. Mine." He looked down at the paper, jotted down one final line. He clenched his hand, the nerves throbbing harder than they had they day Creighton Duke broke those two fingers on that hand.

He reached into his pocket, and grasped a key. His hand throbbed entirely, and he nearly dropped the key. It was okay, because soon, that pain would be all gone. He took the key, and unlocked a drawer on his desk he hadn't opened in months. Reaching inside, he wrapped his throbbing fingers around the handgun, and pulled it free from the desk.

"My terms," he said, placed it into his mouth. He heard the voices inside his head, some laughing, some crying, but all telling him it was time, he'd lived longer than he deserved to. He hesitated only a second, and pulled the trigger, and fell into the darkness. The voices stopped, the pain stopped, the memories vanished within a flash and a bullet.

When the police later arrived at the scene, they found the dead body of a man, and took pity on him, knowing of his plight, the recent loss of his wife and son. What they didn't know, is he had been a hero once. This man faced down a monster- a real one, not one of those fictional ones in books or movies… and lived. Instead, they saw the body of a poor, broken up widower, once a hero, who took the cowards way out.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

There are a lot of doors Neil Gordon has walked through in his lifetime; out of Westin hills, into the unemployment office- the hospital after his fight with a walking skeleton, and most recently, the liquor store. This door, however, was different.

The door wasn't real, in any convention sense- it existed outside that world, but it was real, nevertheless. The door existed once in many places- the hearts and minds of four people… himself, and three kids. Those kids were long gone now, and he was all that was left, the only surviving member of that group.

Neil too, like Stephen Freeman, had once found the deep, almost buried need to be a hero, and, while his direct face off with a monster ended with him unconscious, he laid the evil dream-mans bones into the ground, giving the proper buried methods and the beast was laid to rest once more, but not without costs.

Philip and Jennifer were the first of his kids to die, he later learned there were many before and would be many afterwards, but he never believed then. By the time he did, that bastard son of a hundred maniacs took Taryn and Will, as well as Nancy, his sweet, innocent Nancy… which, of course, brings us to this mystery door.

Neil Gordon may have very well have ended up like Stephen Freeman- a bullet wound in his head, a forgotten soul- if not for this very door. He'd spoken to voodoo priests, shamans, two-bit fraud psychics, and even a priest or two- but not one of them could tell him what the door was. A psychiatrist (a shrink seeing a shrink, isn't that cute?) dubbed it as "The Dream Gate," a doorway to a place you wish to go to. It wasn't a gate per say, it really was a door, but Neil found the title as apt as any.

It didn't matter, though, as this door led to the same place every time he came to it, the only thing he could describe it as was "That beautiful place." Just beyond this door was that place- when he was in the hospital after that incident, Kirsten Parker had come to see him. She had told him about that place, where Nancy would be waiting for them all to come. This was only a few months before that monster had come back, taking her, Kincaid, and Joey with him, along with many other good, innocent kids. Neil would've intervened, but he was in LA, visiting his younger brother Larry, who was just about to graduate medical school. He would've fought for them all, if he'd known- by the time he had returned, they were all gone.

That monster came back three more times- and every time it seemed, Neil was gone from Springwood. He refused to leave Springwood- even when he was told about Larrys disappearance; he stayed here, as sort of a lighthouse keeper.

That's enough of that, as they say, because Neil's life story isn't our focus here… it's this door, what lies behind it, and, most importantly, whose waiting behind… that's what we've come for. Neil steps through the archway, if you can really call it stepping- in a ream, to a meadow that stretches for all eternity in all directions. The glass is knee high, but never grows higher, never dies. It's always sunny in this place, the sky a constant crystal blue, but all that pales in comparison.

After taking in the scenery, every time like clockwork, she comes- just as he remembered her last, long curly brown hair, one silver streak on the left side- a perfect smile, and the two brightest, blue eyes he'd ever seen. This time was different, though- the smile was gone. Her face was strong, stern. Like it had been when she stood up against that bitch Simms.

"Neil," she said, "it's time. He's coming back… you have to stop him."

He shook his head. "No… I can't… I've become old… I'm too weak…"

"That's not true, Neil. You have the power, you always have. You just need help. There are two people already here in Springwood- they have the power to stop him. There are others who can help you, but you need to seek them out."

"Who are they?"

She looked around, "Neil, you have to leave here, right now, it's not safe."

"What do you mean, Nancy?"

"Go Neil, run. Wake up." She shoved him back through the door. It slammed closed, and then vanished. No longer was he in his room- he was now in an old, rundown house. In front of him was an old, red door, with a small window that had been barred off. The door opened, he was compelled to enter- he didn't want to, but his mind couldn't control his body. There was an entrance to the right that led to an old dining room- he could see the bony remains of an old, roasted pig, and maggots and worms and other small insects he cared not to look at. Behind was a staircase, which led to a second floor, and a hallway to an open door.

Something tempted him to go to that door, that same feeling that had forced him into this old house. It wanted him to decent into the cold, harsh depths of hell itself.

_No, Neil, _he heard Nancy's voice, somewhere in his mind. _This is his place. His domain. You need to leave, right now, before he comes home._

That was enough for him. He turned around and sped to the door. Just before he could step out, the ground exploded just before him, ripping up carpet and wood, and a large tombstone raised up, blocking his path.

"Dr. Neil Gordon," it said, "Survived by No One. Rest in peace, faggot." Streaked across it, in what looked like and probably was blood, was one word; "WHAT'S." He screamed, and made a run for the staircase just behind him. The ground broke open here too, sending wood shards every which way, one piece cutting his left cheek. It was another tomb stone, this one reading "Dr. Lawrence Gordon. Hacked off his own foot and left to die. Rest in pieces." Another word, also written in blood; "UP."

Neil screamed again, and made his way to the dining room- the ground opened up, and another tombstone, this one reading "Here Lies Nancy Thompson. Bitch had it coming- Your old pal, Freddy." This one, like the others, was bloodstained with a word; "DOC?" He ran to the open door, and stumbled down the flight of stairs. He landed in a metal walkway, and rose back to his feet.

First thing he noticed, the stairs that led him here were now gone. The second, this wasn't a basement he was in. In fact, it looked like an old warehouse factory- that was very much active. Machines that looked older than God, groaned and came to screeching life. Fire rose all around him, turning this place hotter than Hell itself.

"Should've gotten out of here when you had the chance, Doc." The voice came from everywhere, and yet also no where. It cackled in evil laughter.

"I'm… I'm not afraid of you," he tried, but the fear in his voice was prevalent.

The voiced cackled even louder in the darkness. "You don't need to be. The children are mine, and not you or that whore will get in my way. You don't need to sleep to die, Doc." He laughed again. The metal walkway began to de-solidify, and became like softening taffy beneath his feet. He tried to grab the hand rail, but it too succumbed to this liquefying metal. He fell over, and into the darkness, the monsters laughter and his own screams the only thing he could hear before-

Neil woke up, and shoved a hand into his mouth to stifle another scream. He turned to a mirror he had beside his bed- the once young and handsome Doctor Neil Gordon was still in there, somewhere, buried beneath a decade of hard alcohol abuse. He was covered head to toe in sweat,, to the point his blankets had been drenched in the stuff. He ran to the bathroom, turned on the faucet, and splashed water into his face.

He kept his eyes closed for a time, and looked down into the sink. It had turned a shade of red. He reached up to his cheek, and felt a wound that hadn't been there before. He looked to his hand, and saw blood had been on it. He was lucky he was still somewhat quick on his feet- he made it to the toilet before the vomit came, expulsing the remainder of the last night's dinner.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Jacob Johnson arrived at school late that morning- after the dream he'd had the night before, and his mothers' interference, he passed out again- and had ended up running late. He ran four blocks without stopping, before a stitch in his side forced him to walk. It wasn't that he was out of shape- he was just not the completely athletic type.

He walked at a pace just fast enough to not cause that stitch to return. By the time he got to school, he was over twenty-five minutes late. He hurried down the hall and to his first period class. When he reached to open the door, it swung open in front of him, nearly knocking him to the floor.

His teacher, Mr. Flannigan, was an old, no-nonsense man. You see, there ware two types of teachers in this world, ones who hate their jobs, and ones that don't. Mr. Flannigan fit the former. He handed a slip to Jacob.

"Had that one written up for you already, Mr. Johnson."

"Oh, come on now Mr. Flannigan…."

"Don't you dare, boy. Get your late, disrespectful ass down to the principal's office, right now." There was a murmur of laughter from in the class behind him. Mr. Flannigan turned around, shouted "quiet," and returned to Jacob. "You're not gone yet?" He pushed the note toward Jacob.

Jacob sighed, taking the note from Mr. Flannigan, who in turn slammed the door shut. Jacob headed back the way he had came from. When he got to the office, he walked through the door and up to the receptionist, and handed her the slip. She looked over it once, and then back up to him. "Late again, Mr. Johnson? You're becoming like a broken record."

"What's a record," Jacob returned, sarcastically.

The receptionist, a Ms. Lynn Shaye, scoffed, and handed the note back to him. "Have a seat, the principals' not here."

"Well, what am I supposed to do?"

"Well, smartass, sit until another faculty member arrives." She pointed back to the row of seats lining the back wall. Jacob took the slip back, and sat down. Jacob sat for what felt a long while, until the office door opened. A man walked in, who looked older than his years, ragged and, even possibly, broken. He looked to Jacob as if he'd hit the bottle one two many times the night before… like stories his mother had told him about her own father, who had been sober up until his death three years ago.

The man turned and looked to Jacob. Jacob looked up to him, and their eyes met for only a second. There was a flash in the old man's eyes, which appeared to be a moment of recognition, but the man turned away, and walked up to the receptionist. The whispered to each other momentarily, and, when they finished, he turned to Jacob. "Come on back with me."

Jacob rose from his seat, and followed the man back towards his office. The front office held several desks for the various receptionists. The was a small hallway behind that, lined with four doors on each side, each for one of the four guidance councilors and four assistant principals. At the end of the hall was the largest of the offices, which belonged to Principal Shaye.

Jacob had found himself in there a lot as of late, it seemed. He had never been a problem child, so far as anyone could tell… not until his senior year. He'd become, as of late, somewhat of an outcast. A lot of people blamed it on father issues, and Jacob let people take that excuse as good as any. The truth was, it was his dreams there were the issue here. Ever since his ability to manipulate his dreams began, everything changed for him. He realized he could bring his friends into his dreams, and could, at will, enter other people's dreamscapes.

Sometimes they would relate these stories about it to him the next day- how'd they'd seen him in their dreams, others still said nothing, and only gave him strange looks the following day. He was all right by that either way- he found it to be quite amusing to himself. When his mother had found out, she became mighty pissed towards him. He got quite the lecture, and that's when she told him about the "truth." About that child killer, Fred Krueger, about how his father had died at the hands of this monster, and a great many other things. She never mentioned to him about his role as the Dream Child, there wasn't any need for it, so far as she could tell- and he believed little of it, even despite his burgeoning ability to manipulate dreams.

Instead of going into that office, Principal Shaye was out sick, after all- he turned, following the man into a very basic office. There were bookcases with generic encyclopedias and binders- student information Jacob surmised- a placard on the wall, with his PhD, and two more- one of him, with a young brunette woman- the other was in a park, surrounded by several young teens. These pictures were all old, because the man in these pictures looked no older than thirty, and the man now sitting before him was much older than that. Time had seemed unkind to some people- especially this man. Heavily lines weighed down his face, his eyes had heavy bags beneath them. The smell of booze didn't help his image, either.

Jacob had caught the faint aroma of booze underneath the weak smell of Old Spice the man had tried to use to hid the odor. He recognized that smell from one of the man that his mother had brought home once. He smiled to himself, remembering how he'd gone into that particular man's dreams, and turned them into nightmares. Not that he was proud of himself.

"Something's amusing you? I'd love to know what," the man asked.

"No, no, of course not," Jacob sat down, resting his back into the chair, and lowering his backpack to the ground next to his chair.

"Fine. It's okay to keep anything you want to yourself." _Great, _Jacob thought. _Another shrink. Just what I needed… _"Let me introduced myself. I am Dr. Neil Gordon. Feel free to call me Neil, or if it makes you more comfortable, Dr. Gordon is fine."

"Okay," Jacob said, and smiled. "So, what's up, Doc?"

Neil face turned pale white. He sat back for a moment in his chair, but one thought crossing his mind; _Christ, I could really use a drink…_

"Are you all right, Dr. Gordon. You don't look well."

Neil nodded, and returned; "Yeah, I'm okay. Maybe it's that bugs that's been going around," he said, his voice shaken. He straightened up in his seat, and cleared his throat. "I'm sorry," he said, "can I see your slip again?" His voice seemed stronger now, but a little of that tension still remained. He took the pass from Jacob, and looked it over. "A tardy slip. You were late to a class, and, judging by the remarks left on it, this isn't the first time." He reached behind him, grabbing one of the binders. He began to sift through it, eventually stopping. He read for a time, and then continued. "This seems to be a regular occurrence for you." He put down the binder, closing it. "Is there something you wish to talk about? Perhaps domething that has been troubling you as of late?"

"No," Jacob said, "I just had a bad night…" He had intended on saying _nightmare,_ but had for some reason decided against it. He thought for a moment, _what was the point, anyway?_

Neil looked Jacob over, and studied is appearance. His attention was immediately drawn to the heavy bags underneath his eyes, the pale complection, the classic symptoms of sleep deprivation. _You know why, Neil, _Nancy's voice in his head, clear as day, _Freddy's written all over this._

"Doesn't look like you've been getting much sleep lately. Anything troubling you?"

"Cramming, you know. Either fail a test or sacrifice some sleep."

Neil leaned forward, and looked Jacob straight in the eyes. "Are you sure that's the entire truth? You're not having… nightmares, by chance?"

Jacob let out a nervous laugh, and diverted his eyesight. "Nah, no nightmares. I don't even really remember my dreams these days. Just… cramming, like I told you. One too many late-nighters. You know how it can be."

"High school can be tough, I do understand. I hope you understand that if you have any problems, you can talk to me, or any adult figure. Maybe even your mother and father if you'd prefer not to talk to a member of the faculty."

_Don't let your instincts fool you Neil, _Nancy's voice again. _This boy needs your help._

Neil let out a sigh. _What can I do if he doesn't speak up. _There was no retort here, no answers to be had… just silence.

"My father's dead," Jacob said. He went to get up, grabbing his backpack and putting it over his shoulder. "Is that everything, Dr. Gordon?"

"Neil, please."

"Neil… can I get back to class now?"

"Not quite yet. I have to be honest with you, your attendance has been extremely poor as of late. This late alone is enough to hold you back a year."

Jacob tensed up. "But the year is almost over-"

"Wait, Jacob, please let me finish. While what I said is a fact, that doesn't mean I can't let this one slide. If I do that, I'll need a promise from you. No more tardies, no more absences, and, most importantly, you need to raise your grades to a passing level."

Jacob nodded, relaxing some. "Thank you, Dr. Gordon." He stopped, and then corrected himself. "Neil."

"Okay Jacob. I'm going to hold you to that promise. Just remember, anymore lates or absences without a doctor's note or some major emergency, your chances of graduating will diminish severely. You'll more than likely be held back, and your prom ticket will be denied. Is that understood?"

"Yes, sir. _Crystal._"

"Okay then. You're free to go back to class."

Jacob nodded. "Thank you… Neil." Jacob put his backpack over one shoulder. He turned and left the office, closing the door behind him. Neil sat up, and put his hand into his pocket. He withdrew a single key, and inserted it into one of his drawers in his desk. Neil pulled it open, reached inside, and removed a flask. He unscrewed the cap, and took a long, hard swig. The whiskey burned his throat as it went down.

_This isn't the time for this, Neil. _Nancy's voice again, more prominent than it had been before. _I need you to be focused. They all need you. You're one of the only ones who knows the real truth._

"I'm sorry," Neil said under his breath, and took another long swig. "That's not me anymore." He waited for a second for the voices of the dead to haunt him. That second shot seemed to have sent them away, and Neil Gordon was just fine with that. He took one more swig from the flask, and placed it back into his desk. He sat back, and felt the thoughts of the whole Freddy Krueger business slip away into a black haze, and felt himself becoming blissfully unaware. That was just fine by him.


	8. Appendix A The Writers Intent

Freddy VS Jason 2

Michael Myers Revenge

"The night HE came to town!"

Appendix A) The Writer's Intent

So, as a writer, I'm sure many of you will understand the trouble of being a writer. You get many good ideas that don't pan out. Others that were stupid, come out better than expected. This story had humble beginnings- and a weird ending.

I started writing this story in October of 2004- over five years ago at the time I am writing this. It was to be a sequel to my ongoing horror fan fiction meta-story, which was meant to include my Halloween Trilogy (Uncompleted at the time of this writing) and two Dangertainment stories. I completed the prologue and the first four chapters- and stopped. I had written two chapters elsewhere between now and recently, both of which are not included in the story. I had written outline after outline- but never picked up on the story again.

I had fallen into the awful writers block- on a story I really had ready to go. I had a full outline- which was and is very different from the story that now is.

You'll see in the other appendix about the deleted chapters- whole plots and characters now removed entirely. The respective fates of the two characters from Freddy VS Jason were to be revealed. Instead, I removed them- I didn't like them very well, and if you really care to know, you can read them later on, and assume them canon to the story.

The original story was going to involve a lot of the same events of this story- but with a twist. There was going to be a bounty hunter, named Spencer Davis, who would be hunting Jason. Other characters were set to appear- Laurie Strode would've returned in flashbacks and dreams of John Tate. Tommy Jarvis' broken mind was going to be further explored. Alice Johnson would've had more of a presence- she was going to die in an elaborate "Wonderland" nightmare- albeit skewered version. Jacob Johnson's involvement would've been much less- more of a side character, if you will.

Spencer was to hire a group of mercenaries to go into Crystal Lake to take out Jason. There was going to be a party there- all kids from Crystal Lake. They were going to bring out Freddy and Michael, and the battle would have ensued.

This is where I stopped. I wouldn't pick up my pen for another five years, where I began with chapter 5. I won't go into detail, but I'll discuss some key differences.

Neil Gordon wasn't in the original story at all. In fact, the good Doctor was meant to be part of another fan fiction I never even started- Nightmare On Elm Street Part 8- The Dream Gate. Much of what that story is here- Dr. Neil Gordon's alcoholism, Nancy Thompson in the "Beautiful place," and Jacob Johnson being a forerunning character was taken from this concept.

The original story was going to be a new set of Dream Warriors- Dr. Gordon working out of Westin Hills once again. Jacob Johnson would've been the "key," much as Kirsten had been in Nightmare 3. As I said, the story never panned out- and instead now has become part of this story.

That is essentially what this story became- a mixture of these two stories to become one. And it worked. In less than three weeks, I went from having the prologue and four chapters, a total of six typed pages, to having twenty chapters, and epilogue, and one hundred and twenty handwritten pages or so.

It's amazing what sometimes happens, don't you think? A story that was once dead is now very much alive. I hope you enjoyed it, and this explanation as to how it came to be. Thank you once more for reading it, and I hope the contents of this Appendix will help you not only better understand my story, but also the characters, the franchises, and the overall story. There is such a rich history from all these stories, and I personally feel with the finished product, I haven't even began to scratch the surface. The following Appendix pages are to assist in your further enjoyment and understanding of the characters, the background, and the history of these horror greats.

Thank you, and God Bless.

-Robert Martin


	9. Appendix B Story And Canon Characters

Appendix B) The Story So Far, Canon Characters and Locations

In order to fully appreciate, and understand, the story on a whole, you need to have previous knowledge of all of the series. The best way I can explain is to say... Go watch the movies! For those of you who are fans of one franchise, and not the others- there's a wealth of information that can be obtained by simple searches. In the next Appendix, I am detailing the canon characters, and including their descriptions and films they appeared in. If you're really interested, but don't wish to seek out these films, look them up on Wikipedia or another site. There are several very informative websites out there for each franchise, all that go into more detail than I ever could.

The following appendix is a gathering of all canon characters that relate to FVSJ 2- and a brief character history. Only characters from the original films will be included.

Alice Johnson (Nightmare 4 and 5)

Alice was the dream master, after having defeated Freddy. He later returned, using her own unborn child to kill once more. Finally, she defeated Freddy- and stayed in Springwood to watch over her Dream Gate, and her son, Jacob.

Jacob Johnson (Nightmare 5)

He was being used as a link between the real world and the dream one by Freddy, so he could kill again. After his mother defeated Freddy, Jacob was born with no knowledge of the events, however, he seems to have acquired some of the abilities his mother had, and over time, they've only strengthened.

Tommy Jarvis (Friday 4, 5 and 6)

Tommy was an unusual young boy, with a taste for the macabre. He loved practical jokes and maskmaking. His life was turned upside down when he moved into a house near Crystal Lake- and a series of murders took place next door. His mother, too was a victim, but he had no idea. He and his sister would've fallen victim as well, had they both not taken stands. Tommy lost it, and brutally attacked Jason, using his own machete against him, killing the beast. He was taken away from his sister, and placed into psychiatric care.

At age fifteen, Jason once again came into his life- a ambulance driver named Roy's son was killed, and he went on a psychotic rampage, taking on the mantel, being the only person to have actually been a copy-cat killer of Voorhees' murders.

Tommy killed Roy, and slipped back into his psychosis. One year later, he came up with a plan, to make sure Jason never hurt another soul again. He dug up his body, and then planned to destroy it, once and for all- but a lightning bolt resurrected the monster, and he once again went on a rampage. Tommy stopped him, by drowning him in the lake he first drowned in as a child.

Ever since, Tommy has been on the down low, traveling the country. He hadn't heard about the attack on the sea liner, or the deaths in Cunningham county- but an article about three deaths in Crystal Lake and another ten linked in Springwood, he decided to come home once again, to see if his old nemesis had returned...

John Tate (Halloween H20)

Survivor of the 1998 Michael Myers attack at Hillcrest Academy. His mother was Keri Tate, AKA Laurie Strode, aka Michael Myers sister. After her death three years later in a psychiatric ward, for killing an innocent man she believed to be her brother, he took on Myers two years back to back in Haddonfield. He survived these attacks, but at the price of his girlfriend's life.

Ronald "Ronnie" Jones (Halloween H20)

Ronnie had been a security guard during the Michael Myers attack in 1998- and had been one of the few survivors. Since, he's become somewhat of a name, having publish his own person account about the events at his former place of employment.

Stephen Freeman (Jason Goes To Hell)

He survived, along with his girlfriend, Jessica, the "Final Friday." He had fought Jason Voorhees- and been one of the lucky ones. He survived, but ever since, nightmares and re-occurring thoughts have plagued him, and a recent tragedy has driven him into the depths of despair...

Megan Garris (Friday 6)

The only other adult survivor of Jason Voorhees' attack on Camp Forest Green, the only other being Tommy Jarvis. Her father and friends were all murdered by Jason Voorhees that night. In the interim between now and then, Megan married Tommy Jarvis and is now Mrs. Megan Jarvis.

Nancy Thompson (Deceased, Nightmare 1, 3, and 7)

She faced off against Freddy twice- and was murdered by him, Freddy's trick of using her father did her in. Kirsten sent her to a "Beautiful place," behind a Dream Gate. Was briefly romantically involved with Dr. Neil Gordon.

Dr. Neil Gordon (Nightmare 3)

The last surviving character from Dream Warriors, and hasn't been mentioned since. He fought against a skeletal Freddy, and had his arm broken. After the deaths of the last three Dream Warriors, (Joey, Kincaid, and Kirsten) he sunk into a depression and alcoholism. The disappearance of his brother Larry didn't help his condition. He speaks to Nancy through a "Dream Gate," a door to a world that Kirsten created for Nancy Thompson's soul.

Crystal Lake/Forest Green- Setting of the Friday films. Featured in majority of the story.

Haddonfield- Setting of the Halloween films. Not featured in the story.

Springwood- Setting of the Nightmare films. Both the café from Part 4 and 5 as well as the infamous 1428 Elm Street appear in the story.


	10. Appendix C Timeline

Appendix C) Timeline

My OWN timeline for the film series.

(All Three Series will have their own individual timelines, based on the known facts of each film. Forgive me if any contradictions arise- I did this entirely from memory)

Halloween/Nightmare On Elm Street/Friday the 13th

Summer 1957- Jason Voorhees drowns in Crystal Lake

October 31st, 1963 - Michael kills his first victim, his sister, Judith Margaret Myers. He is incarcerated at Smith's Grove Sanitarium.

1971- After his mistrial, Fred Krueger is hunted down by a mob from the town of Springwood. With his final victim murdered, a young girl, he is burned to death.

October 31st, 1978

Halloween I and II

1979- June 13th, Friday

Friday the 13th

1981

Nightmare On Elm Street

1984

Friday the 13th: Part 2/3

1986

Nightmare On Elm Street 2

1987

Nightmare 3

Summer

Friday the 13th Part V

1988

Nightmare 4

Summer

Friday the 13th Part VI

October 31st, 1988

Halloween 4

Summer of 1989

Nightmare 5

October 30-31st 1989

Halloween 5

Summer, 1993

Friday the 13th Part VII

Summer, 1994

Friday the 13th, VIII

Summer, 1995

Jason Goes To Hell

October 31st, 1995

Halloween 6

October 29th-31st, 1998

H20

October 31st, 2001

Resurrection

Summer, 2002

Freddy VS Jason

October 31st, 2003

Halloween: Reborn

October 31st, 2004

Halloween: Revelations/Redemption


End file.
